


Collider

by busaikko



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1480945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/pseuds/busaikko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Large Hadron Collider, large hard-on collider, practically the same thing... if you're John Sheppard and are trying to irritate Rodney into bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collider

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/gifts).



> inspired by a typo on Mific's page of [insanely seductive 2048 games](http://mific.dreamwidth.org/66191.html).

"I cannot take you _anywhere_ ," Rodney hissed. "Pretending to be stupid is not attractive."

John shifted his weight, trying to stand in a way that made his dress shoes pinch his toes less without scraping blisters at the back of his heels. "It was an honest slip of the tongue," he protested, willing Rodney to play along. "Hadron, hard-on, practically the same thing." He kept his voice low – for all he was trying to antagonize Rodney, he didn't really want to offend the brightest minds in the field of theoretical physics. Particularly when the SGC's scheduled festivities included the bombshell that a lot of things weren't exactly theoretical any more. John leaned in a little closer. "I'll show you my large hard-on collider if you'll show me yours."

Rodney narrowed his eyes, and John couldn't be sure if that gleam was potential interest or incipient rage. But then Rodney heaved a sigh like the weight of the world had been put on his shoulders and tweaked the empty hors d'oeuvres plate out of John's hand, setting it down decisively on the nearest table.

"Well?" Rodney demanded, and flapped his hand towards the lobby doors as if he was shooing a cat. "Go, go, what are you waiting for?"

John took that to mean that he was the designated driver, and that he didn't need to keep to a reasonable speed on the way back to their hotel. Rodney bitching at him was kind of a turn-on by this point, anyway, like tickling: an uncomfortable sensation that he hated, except for those certain times when the irritation crossed wires and went right to the pleasure center of his brain.

In their room, he got rid of the damn shoes inside the door, and then figured what the hell, and stripped everything off, tossing jacket and trousers onto the extra bed and leaving his socks on the floor for the verisimilitude of home. He finished fast enough that he got to sit on the end of the bed and alternately leer as Rodney undressed and check his watch impatiently.

Rodney insisted on using coat hangers. At a time like this.

The combination of irritation and hotness had John's dick so hard that Rodney had to snap his fingers to get his attention.

"I said –" John grinned; mutual annoyance was a go "– you're on top, because I'm giving that lecture at nine, and I don't want to throw my back out."

"But what about _my_ back?" John asked, trying for a reasonable tone.

"Who cares?" Rodney hung up his second sock, shut the closet door, and tried to stroll casually over to the bed, even though his dick gave away how eager he was. He settled on the comforter with a wriggle, plumping a pillow firmly before putting his head down, and only reached for John like an afterthought. "Oh, and try to hurry up, I don't want to have circles under my eyes, either."

John let himself be manipulated into place, outwardly docile but mentally swearing that an hour from now Rodney would be _begging_ to come, would be sweating for it, falling apart and utterly ravished. He'd fuck Rodney to the point where he actually became polite, all _Please , John_ and _Oh yes, John_ and _God, I love – _

John's face must have hinted at his machinations, because Rodney's eyes went big and he breathed out, like he was just now realizing how much trouble he was in, "Fuck."

But it was too late: project Large Hard-on Collider was already underway.

John started off with the basics, lining their dicks up so a slow easy roll of his hips had them rubbing together as he kissed Rodney breathless. Rodney's hands shifted back and forth between the small of John's back and his ass, probably a not-so-subtle hint, but John was set on taking the scenic route. He kissed his way down along Rodney's jaw to nibble on his earlobe, and then trailed kisses down Rodney's neck. He didn't think it was his imagination that he could feel the race of Rodney's pulse; a hot flush was already spreading down the skin he was kissing. John knew – from a great deal of experience – that he could get the color all the way down to Rodney's nipples if he played his cards right.

Now that he was thinking about them, he had to shift and duck his head to catch each nipple in turn, lapping at it until it grew hard and then teasing with his teeth until Rodney shoved him away. That was fine; John grabbed Rodney's hand as it was retreating and held on as he sat up. Rodney's hands were one of the main conduits of his genius, and he got off on John sucking on his fingers, sliding them into his mouth one by one, and then filling his mouth with two, watching John take him inside with a nearly ferocious intensity. The thought of what _he_ must look like embarrassed John.

And of course Rodney noticed, his sharp eyes on John's face, a slow greedy smile curling his mouth up. "If this was porn, you'd be touching yourself." John tried to point out the obvious, that it _wasn't_ porn, but as soon as he opened his mouth Rodney slid another finger in. "I like it when you play with your chest."

John rolled his eyes but obliged by giving his nipples perfunctory pinches, and then scratching over them with his thumbnails. The sensation made him want to grind down, and he had to breath steady to keep himself still. It was hard with his mouth full, and he had to let his eyes fall shut as the first prickle of sweat started along his shoulderblades.

He reminded himself firmly that Rodney was going to break first and break slow, and gave Rodney's fingers a last laving with his tongue before sitting back on his heels and letting Rodney's hand fall to trace cool patterns along his side. John did not let himself be distracted or tempted. He surveyed the situation, made a quick and dirty plan ( _leave no skin unkissed_ ), and attacked.

He made it as far as the insides of Rodney's knees before Rodney started accusing him of attempting murder.

"Mm," John agreed amiably, and rubbed his cheek against Rodney's calf before giving it the kiss it deserved. "Death by sex?"

"Death by frustration."

"Not a bad way to go," John suggested, switching sides and moving on towards the ankle.

Rodney made a rough garbled noise and tugged at John's hair. "I'll hate myself for this in the morning, but – no toe-nibbling after sweaty dress shoes."

John shrugged and looked up, meeting Rodney's eyes over his hard and leaking cock, which Rodney was gripping like he was afraid it was going to get away from him. The sight made John's heart twist with a flood of emotions he'd rather not name, and his own dick throb as if Rodney was touching him as well.

"Come on," Rodney urged, tightening his fingers in John's hair. "Back up here."

John ducked his head, hiding his smirk. "Magic word?"

" _Please_ get up here and suck my dick. Or whatever. I could suck _your_ dick. Just pretty please with sugar on top, stop trying to make me explode with lust."

"I dunno," John said, but he shifted to all fours and started crawling up, feeling predatory. " _Exploded Rodney with lust_ would look cool on my resume."

"On your _obituary_ – " Rodney sucked in a breath as his whole body went taut, hips driving his cock into John's mouth as he slid down. Normally, John used his hands to hold Rodney's hips, to control speed and depth, but tonight he didn't care. He wanted everything Rodney had to give him, and right now Rodney was fucking his mouth like he didn't give a damn about tomorrow's lower back pain. For that, John could time his breathing and work his mouth as low as he could go, shaking with fever-like tremors at every groan and garbled word from Rodney.

" _Jesus_ ," Rodney said, fingertips scrabbling against John's sweat-slick shoulders, like he was barely able to restrain himself from shoving John's head all the way down.

" _Would you_ – " and John was sure he'd do _anything_ Rodney asked, if only Rodney had the words.

" _John_ ," and Rodney sounded so shattered John felt the tightening urgency of his body finally slide into the surety that he was going to come _really damn soon_. He probably could come untouched at this point, with just a word from Rodney, but he didn't want to. He wanted to be touched, more than anything.

He let Rodney's dick slide out of his mouth, and if Rodney protested it didn't register. All John's concentration was directed towards getting his mouth on Rodney's and his dick snug up next to the wet heat of Rodney's, and then fucking hard into the warmth between their bodies. Rodney had his hands on John's back, fingernails digging in, and his legs pressed tight against John's. The kiss was sloppy, both of them panting hard, Rodney still trying to talk and the words going straight into John's mouth like secrets, making him want to give up his own confessions.

"I," John said urgently, and Rodney kissed him and said, impatient, "What?" and then John was coming, body surrendering to a blinding rush of pleasure that he chased as long and as far as he could.

He had just enough presence of mind to feel Rodney grab his ass and thrust up against him, and John jerked his hips down. Rodney shouted, twisting like he was trying to get away, but John held on with his whole body, until Rodney finally went limp beneath him, with a breathless laugh and a clumsy pat on John's shoulder that John took as a hint that he was crushing Rodney half to death.

"Wow," Rodney said, rolling to the side with John so they were knee to knee. He was always a lot more conversational than John could manage after sex, and John could never keep up. "That was... Did you seriously just fuck yourself into the mattress to make a bad physics joke?"

John managed to get his eyes open, and then shut them again when he realized all he could see was Rodney's still-flushed neck. "You're complaining?"

Light fingertips trailed across his back, and John jerked, surprised by how much it stung.

"You're all scratched up," Rodney said, without a trace of apology. He sounded kind of smug, actually. John drew upon the power of annoyance, and coordinated himself enough to poke Rodney in the side.

"Come on, shower." Rodney sat up, and when John didn't move, tried to shove him out of bed. "You hate crusty stuff on your skin."

John'd learned the fine art of the put-upon sigh from his third-grade teacher; unfortunately, Rodney wasn't just immune, but found it amusing.

John let Rodney soap him up and rinse him off in the cozy (i.e., tiny) shower stall, and then washed Rodney's hair in return, using Rodney's personal shampoo and not the heavily floral stuff the hotel supplied.

"So what's your favorite quark?" John asked, more alert now and already half-heartedly plotting his next revenge as he lathered and rinsed.

Rodney didn't reply, prudently keeping his eyes and mouth shut, although a raised eyebrow suggested John probably hadn't been as subtle as he could have been. But when John was done Rodney flashed him a grin and said, "Let me think about that." He sounded indulgent and happy. John pulled Rodney close and kissed him there in the shower – not part of any evil plan, but just because he wanted to, more than anything.


End file.
